


FrUK Stories for the thirsty and the soft

by PolkaDot_BowTie



Category: CountryHumans, Geography (Anthropomorphic)
Genre: Anal Sex, Britain is a bottom I don't make the rules, Britain is called UK and Britain in this, FrUK, Français | French, French Characters, Fucking, I try but my french isn't perfect, M/M, More characters to be added, More tags to be added, Oral Sex, Rated Mature because they'll fuck eventually, Sick Character, Sickfic, bc I'm british and I'm learning french, fite me i dare you, i basically rewrote hetalia but the version that every FrUK lover deserves, i'm sorry its an insult to the language, its fucking cute, they're gay, unbeta'd we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:22:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28133124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolkaDot_BowTie/pseuds/PolkaDot_BowTie
Summary: Its a book for my FrUK short stories.Its steamy,its fluffy,but most importantly:Its GAY
Relationships: France/United Kingdom (Anthropomorphic), Italy/Spain (Anthropomorphic)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. They see their Partner (1/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see Britain from France's eyes...

France popped his shoulders as he stretched in the halo of soft morning light, feeling the tension drain away at the soft _pop._ He blearily opened his eyes, feeling his eye-lashes untangle and enjoying the pleasant feeling of a natural awakening.

He hummed, satisfied.

Looking over, he saw Britain, feeling his heart swell and throb with fondness and love. 

His pale face was illuminated by the sun, constellations of freckles adorning his cheeks, along the bridge of his nose, and up to his temples. A memory flickered to the front of his mind: Britain had fallen asleep in his lap and France had spent hours trailing between the freckles, charting the night sky gently into his skin.

He watched as Britain stretched in his sleep, nestling his head into his pillow more. France stared as Britain's dark chocolate locks bounced down from the pillow.

When Britain was awake, his hair was usually rather wavy, rising and crashing over his head like the waves around his island, but the closer to his face the fringe got curly, spirally down his face like whirlpools of chocolate, bouncing into his eyes endearingly. 

It smelled nice too, France thought. Salty like the seas surrounding Great Britain, yet sweet like all forms of tea. Like cinnamon and gingerbread on a cold winter day in front of a burning blaze. Like the refreshing scent of damp flora after a downpour on an open field of buttercups.

Outside of their family, Britain seemed to intimidate many. He wasn't very tall, and not particularly muscular, instead being quite lean and swift, standing at only 5'10, though history had given him a fearsome and well-respected reputation. He was chipping away at it though, making friends in many countries he may have considered enemies at one point.

His face was also well-built, not quite angular that was expected of men, but not like that of a child. It made him look much younger than his actual age. France loved everything about Britain's face, to the pink blush that would dust his face like the sun painting the sky as it set behind the British mountains, or the rose red that would tint his ears and cheeks in moments of intense emotions. Or when he was cold and his nose would go a pale red. Or even the round golden glasses that sat on his nose and framed the emerald green eyes that could charm their way out of the toughest situations.

They'd harden with anger, swim with despair, sparkle with childish excitement, soften with happiness and sympathy, and in some rare cases, they could bring the most ruthless and merciless of warriors to their knees.

France admired Britain, but not just for his looks.

Britain had talents that not many knew about. For example, he had an excellent voice. It was smooth as he talked - that many knew - a thick accent that flowed like the strong rivers that flowed throughout his island. However, it can sing the most beautiful of melodies, calm the most feral of animals and sooth the most hysterical of people. Truly a miracle for a miracle, France mused.

Britain stretched, whining as his back popped. France chuckled quietly.

Britain opened his eyes to reveal the shimmering emeralds that he used as eyes, blearily looking at France as his vision cleared. He huffed, then spoke with the smooth voice that France adored.

"Good morning, Primrose~" Britain said, smiling as France with his perfect smile.

"Bon matin, ma libellule~" France responded in his native language, knowing that Britain was enamoured by it.

Britain smiled, moving closer to France to embrace him. 

France loved his husband so much...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Bon matin, ma libellule~" = "Good morning, my dragonfly~"


	2. They see their Partner (2/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see France from Britain's perspective...

Britain adjusted his glasses as he turned the page of his novel. One of his favourites too, _The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe_ by _C.S Lewis._

A fantastic novel really, but a soft sound made him look up. France was quietly snoring, head lolled against the chair's arm as he slept. 

Britain smiled with fondness, feeling his chest flutter with content. He looked at France's body, tall and muscular, broad. How he loved to curl up in France's lap and pepper his cheeks and neck with kisses.

Or even the honey long blonde hair that cascades to his shoulders in gentle swoops. Britain loves to play with France's hair, it's so soft and smelled of irises and lillies on a lake, or like a smokey French café on a Sunday afternoon. 

_His eyes are beautiful too,_ Britain mused. 

France's eyes, as pale yet intense as the morning sky, could bring him to tears with how raw they can look at him. The deep ring around the outside that was deeper than the deepest of underwater raveens, the centre paler than crystalline morning dew. The way they shimmered like diamonds in the light, or darkened in hard moments. They could express emotions that couldn't be voiced, concerns that couldn't be said, and chip away at Britain's walls until he was raw. 

France had a special touch as well. 

It was gentle and soft, able to sooth him in darker moments, and undo him quickly with pleasure and his skilled hands. The way he could tend to any wound with minimal pain, or hold Britain in a way that could put him into a plentiful slumber full of peaceful dreams. 

France snorted again in his sleep, making Britain laugh quietly. 

How he loved him...


	3. Writer's Block

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> France helps UK relieve himself of stress and tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Smut

Britain huffed, slamming his fist again the table. France looked over and smiled, blue eyes twinkling.

"You okay, ma libellue?" He asked, walking over and putting a hand on Britain's shoulder.

"Yes, just a little writer's block. I want to finish this story, but I have no idea how to do so!" Britain vented, looking at France, gaze fill of stress.

France hummed.

"Perhaps you're just a little... Pent up?" 

"Maybe..."

France leaned down and started to kiss Britain's neck, feeling the shorter's breath hitch as he bit back a whine.

"Can I help you with that~?" France asked, sucking a particularly sensitive spot on Britain's collar bone. Britain breathed, nodding.

"P-please~"

France pulled Britain to his feet, leading him to the island in the kitchen and helping onto it. France smirked at Britain's flushed face and helped him onto the island.

"Why here, Primrose?"

"I want to see your face when I completely undo you~"

France palmed Britain's crotch, watching him gasp and roll his hips slightly, needing more stimulation. The tent in his trousers grew as his erection did. 

France quickly pulled off his pants, rubbing his hand against the erection more through the cloth, listening to Britain's sweet little noises.

"A-ah! F-France~!" He moaned, gripping the edge of the island harder.

France smirked, accomplished. He pulled off the boxers, taking him in his hand. He heard Britain stutter out a gasp, then choke out a small moan, eyes lidded.

France pumped it slowly, revelling in Britain's squirms, needing more, more, _more._

"Ngh!~ F-Faster France!~" Britain said, putting his hands on France's shoulders, trying to pull him closer. 

"Umm, no. I think I quite enjoy this pace." 

Britain looked at him again, face flushed pink as his glasses slipped down his nose more. Small tears gathered at the edges of his eyes, but not out of sadness, out of sexual desire and slight frustration. 

France kept his agonisingly slow pace up for a few more minutes, drawing more sounds out of Britain that were so, so cute.

"You've been good, time to treat you~" France lowered his mouth, pressing a kiss to the tip of Britain's cock, drawing a small moan out of him.

"Ah~! F-France, please~!" 

France peppered more butterfly kisses to Britain's inner thighs, feeling them shake slightly. He moved up, kissing along the thighs more, kissing to the base, then kissing all the way back up to the tip. He heard Britain whine and groan, bucking his hips gently.

France looked up, seeing Britain's mouth open in a silent gasp of pleasure, one eye closed. His hands threaded through France's hair, trying to ground himself somehow. 

France took the head in his mouth, watching Britain's eyes widen at the warmth as his silent gasp became audible.

"AHHH~! Ngh~!" He grit his teeth and France bobbed his mouth up and down the head, then smirking and taking the entire cock in his mouth, swirling his to his around it.

"Oh God, France oh God you feel so good~! You have no idea, please, I-- Ah~!" Britain moaned more, biting his finger to keep his moans down. France pulled off, looking up at Britain's red face.

"Non, ma libellue, I want to hear you don't keep them down~"

Britain pulled his finger out of his mouth, resting his head on France's shoulder, bouncy brown curls falling into his emerald eyes.

France continued to pleasure his husband, hearing his gasps and moans as he jerked him off. 

Britain was in heaven, the pleasure building and climbing and building. 

"F-France, I - Ah~! - I-I I'm - Ngh~! - getting c-close!~" He stuttered out a warning, feeling his climax fast approaching. 

"It's alright, go ahead."

Tipping over the edge, he road the high, feeling his hips buck into France's hands a little as he moaned.

Taking deep breaths, he came down from the high, feeling France's soft lips against his.

"Thank you France..."

"Mon plaisir, libellule ~ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm sorry if it's not very good, I'm not experienced in writing smut but I wanted to do this, they deserve it :3


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